


Peach Stones

by huntingosprey



Category: Stardust (2007)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntingosprey/pseuds/huntingosprey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the kingdom of Stormhold no one is what they appear and more than one fairy tale plays out, oh, and it pays to beware of jugglers offering peaches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peach Stones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mlle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlle/gifts).



> Beta read by my husband.  
> The original folk tale can be found here: http://www.worldoftales.com/Asian_folktales/Chinese_Folktale_10.html

\---Narrator---  
Far to the north of the kingdom of Stormhold, there is a province whose governance has for generations been held up as the example of good, moral and just rule. This, however, is not a story of how well that place is governed, but of how it came to be that way - a more complex story than one might think, and much more interesting.

In the days of the 81st King Stormhold, at the same time as a young Dunstan Thorn was arguing with the wall guard, the chief city of that region, Laht Jai, held a lavish public celebration for the birth of the first child of the governor. For a whole week there were displays of fireworks, magicians competed against each other to amaze and awe the crowds with their power, acrobats tumbled and leapt between the tall buildings in death-defying acts, and food and drink flowed freely. Of course, this being Laht Jai, there were many pickpockets at work in the crowds, more than one murder was committed in the lanes and alleys of the city after dark as the drunk revellers staggered home, and fights were as common as applause.

Into this maelstrom of gaiety and violence on the last day of the festival two men, a father and son by the look of them, strolled into the main square, apparently unaware of the dangers that lurked in every street. But appearances are often deceptive. Somehow the pickpockets never even looked at them, and those whose hearts were inclined to violence simply failed to see two easy victims. At last, they found the bureaucrat in charge of the festivities and humbly asked if they may perform for the entertainment of governor and people. The official looked then up and down and sneered, as they were plainly dressed and showed no outward sign of great magical power. Rudely, he asked them why he should let two such low persons entertain so powerful person as the governor; and the elder, let us call him Than, replied…but perhaps is best if I let them tell their tale.

\---Than Speaks ---

Typical arrogant lordling I can almost hear the thought run across Hahn’s head as I bow low before this bureaucrat. My young companion has a lot to learn about the way thing are in the world. 

“Master”, I say in my best aged wheeze “I have travelled the length and breadth of Stormhold all my life learning from all those who practice magic and sages.” Technically true if not quite in the way this self inflated buffoon interprets it, mostly what watching humans doing magic has taught me is how not to do it.

“If you have learned so much, old man, why do you not have a business selling cures and charms? Why do you still wander?” 

Clearly this one would have long ago set up shop selling dubious charms and potions for as much as he could get away with charging, and can’t imagine why I haven’t done the same. I give him my best enigmatic smile as I answer him. “Master, there is always a new sky to view, new water to drink, and new roads to walk. We have performed before kings, emperors, sages, priests, and none has been disappointed.”

He gives be a disbelieving look, which is Hahn’s cue to step up to my shoulder and say respectfully, “Father, perhaps we could demonstrate some simpler tricks for the lord as proof.”

I nod gravely, keeping in character as an old man burdened by the years. “You speak wisely my son. If my lord will permit, we will show you tricks such as you have never seen before.”

The man raises an eyebrow, and then languidly waves a hand at us to get on with it. I suppress a smile; his open booth in the marketplace couldn’t have given us a better platform to draw a crowd. Simple the trick are not, but Hahn is flexible as only one of fairy blood can be, and his contortions, in which some of his limbs appear to pass through other bits of his body and the nearest building, have drawn a large crowd. I end this phase of our display by blowing a powder that appears to catch fire over him as he unwinds himself from a coil, and for a few seconds he is edged with fire that burns green before dousing itself as he stands erect.

Despite himself the market official is impressed, and the wild applause of the crowd has convinced him to send to the governor, which is good as it means we can get on with part two of the plan. To keep the crowd sweet we perform a few more conjuring tricks, turning glass flowers into real ones and back again, catching spinning plates on fine threads and such like. Once the governor and his entourage have arrived the tricks become more difficult, phasing things and people in and out of reality, the illusion of coating a small boy in metal and having him clank around the square.

Bringing the show to a close with a cluster of colourful explosions I make a low bow to the governor. Now it is time to provoke the greedy fool into asking for something spectacular. 

“Master, have we pleased you?”

The flare of long nostrils and the glint of cruelty in pale eyes gives me hope that the task we are here for won’t prove to hard.

“Pleased me?” the high thin voice floats across the cold breeze. “With such tricks as you have shown? Pah!”

A perfect opening! I wring my hands and do my best woe is me act. From the corner of my eyes I see Hahn bowing low, no doubt to hide the smile forming on his face.

“How, oh most venerable master, may we make restitution and prove our skills to you?”

He lowers his eyelids halfway and considers us for a long moment as the crowd and his court offer suggestions. Then a thin faced man leans close and whispers something in his ear, at which a cruel smile spreads across his face. I can see why our patron has gone to such trouble to cut off this potential threat to his crown. Given time and the right push this governor might just have been a tough challenge. 

The governor leans forward, raising a hand to silence the crowd. “Our feast was missing a sweet delicacy, a fruit my wife has craved as she bore our son.” The smile becomes wider and more menacing. “If you are such great magicians, present me with a ripe peach.”

The crowd laughs, anticipating our failure and probable messy execution, and I play along with a pretence of shock and dismay.

“A peach, oh most excellent one?! In mid winter? Such a thing has never been done before,” I exclaim, staggering back a few steps for added theatrical effect whilst inwardly grinning madly. It appears that, once again, the King’s spies have read a man correctly.

“A peach,” the unsuspecting victim repeats. “If, as you say, you have studied with so many sages and sorcerers, surely this can not be to hard.”

I splutter a bit, and Hahn pipes up on cue. “O, my father, you did say that we would do anything his Excellency asked us. Now you must do so or lose the value of your word.”

Still muttering about impossible requests and being caught by my own words, I open our box and pull out a large reel of golden thread. It glitters in the late winter sun, and the crowd presses forward, eager no doubt to claim the wealth it represents.

“Oh most renowned governor, as I have said so I will do, even if I must send to the gardens of the stars for such a fruit,” I declaim into the silence.

Turning to face the west I begin to unwind the thread, whispering a spell of finding under my breath. Somewhere up there in the clouds, Captain Shakespeare and his cargo of not so innocent fruit is waiting. The thread begins to wave about in the still air, like a dog questing for a scent, before rising straight and true up into the air. After a while I feel the tug on the line which indicates that the crew have made fast the line, so I tie off my end of the thread around the post of the governor's balcony. Unsurprisingly, given the other end is attached to a cloud ship, the structure creaks and moans under the strain, causing everyone to flinch and look worried.

“Surely, old man,” one of the hangers-on remarks, trying to hide her nervousness, “you do not intend to climb so thin a bridge.”

I give her a smile “No, my lady, I do not. My son,” I wave a hand at Hahn, “who is more lithe and agile than I, will assay the climb.”

Hahn bows low to the court and leaps upwards. Twisting, he lands on the thread, which bounces a little under him before steadying. As the crowd gasp and mutter at the sight of a full grown man balancing on so thin a line, Hahn begins to run up it, prompting more awed muttering from court and crowd. My part for the moment done, I wait calmly for the last act in our drama, watching Hahn growing smaller the higher he climbs.

\----Hahn Speaks---

It soon grows cold as I scramble up the impossible thin line. Of course, what the incredulous crowds can’t see is the much thicker rope which grows out of the golden thread - and which is what I’m actually climbing. Humanity is so blind and petty; on the plus side it makes our job so much easier! Of all the things that idiot governor asked for, a peach! 

As the clouds finally close about me, I abandon both the rope climb and my merely human form. Stretching wings wide and catching the wind, I seek Shakespeare’s ship hiding in the clouds. 

Touching down on the deck a few moments later, the familiar cocksure grin of Captain Shakespeare greets me. “So what’s it to be? Melons from the far south? That multi hued thing that’s stinking out my hold? Come on, don’t keep us waiting – holding her still’s not as easy as it looks.”

I grin at him. Here is a good man to do business with, always providing you keep your end of the deal. “A peach,” I tell him.

He gives me a long look before muttering, “great. And how am I supposed to get that damn stink out of my hold, I want to know?” 

He gestures at a sailor who disappears below to get the ensorcelled fruit. I have to agree with the crew about that smelly fruit from the west. Than and I have slept on deck the whole journey to escape the stink. No doubt the crew will throw it overboard at the first opportunity and be thankful. I feel the twang of a spell taking focus, and a few moments later the crewman comes back on deck, carefully holding a large peach which to my eyes glows with magic. 

I take it from him and take wing. Hovering over the line I set a finding spell on it and drop it. It very swiftly disappears back down the rope I climbed. Now I just need to wait while Than makes sure all the court eat a slice and unknowingly curse themselves to live in truth. Dropping back to the deck I wait for the signal to cut the thread.

“So,” Shakespeare says conversationally, “how do you plan on getting back down? Flying’s going to give you away, and that could be deadly.”

Cutting the thread on Than’s signal I grin at him and rummage in my pocket. “I don’t know about you but I find the fastest way to travel is by candle light.”

He’s laughing as we thrown the fake body bits over the side to fall into the square and provide the last bit of pathos before we round out another successful mission for the King of Stormhold.

\---Than Speaks---

The fake body parts make a distressing sound as they hit the cobbles of the main square. The people, awed by the appearance of the fruit, worried by the line's fall, and already far under the influence of the truth spell, help an apparently grieving father gather up his son’s dismembered body and place it in a box for burial. 

As the Governor asks how he may make amends for my loss, I hear a tiny thump from the box and know that Hahn has returned by Babylon candle, so I bow low and tell him all will be well if only he will plant the peach stone and give the resulting fruit to all for the next ten years. This he readily agrees to, and the truth spell on him will make sure he keeps that vow so, with a flourish and a little bit of fairy fire, I pull open the box and Hahn tumbles out whole and unharmed to bow low to the astonished crowds.

A good actor, or a good agent always knows when to make an exit, so we both crowd back into the box and relight the candle, concentrating on a safe spot miles away. Stumbling out spent and weary, we settle to rest by the light of a fire, eating and drinking to recover our strength for the trip back to Stormhold.

“So,” Hahn asks as he pours himself another ale, “how long before the whole region is cursed to good living?”

“A lot less than ten years,” I tell him, smiling. “Which is just as well, because the spell will need renewing after that.” 

“And after that? Will it slip back to what it is now?” Hahn demands.

I shake my head. There was something deeper and more powerful buried in that spell. I could only catch a glimpse of it, but somehow I don’t think we or any other agent will need to visit Laht Jai again.

“No, how he did it I don’t know, and don’t want to know, but the King had the Lamia bind something into it,” I whisper. Drawing the Lamia’s attention isn’t something any sane man does. “I think that curse will stick for many, many years.”

\---Narrator ---

And so it proved. Long after the reigns of King Tristan and his son, the curse of truth lingered in that area, and by the time it had dissipated truth had become such an ingrained habit that it stuck just as fast as any curse, and by any measure the people there lived happily ever after, and produced the finest peaches in the kingdom of Stormhold.


End file.
